To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise (Arthur Sullivan)
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- Editor: Andrew Sims (submitted 2021-02-21). Score information: A4, 1 page, 46 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: The hymn with four-part harmony and underlaid words in the version published in Hymns Ancient & Modern New Standard
- Editor: Andrew Sims (submitted 2021-02-21). Score information: A4, 1 page, 123 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: The hymn in the version published in Hymns Ancient & Modern New Standard, melody with words.
- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2010-08-15). Score information: A4, 1 page, 19 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise
Composer: Arthur Sullivan
Tune: Golden sheaves
Lyricist: William Chatterton Dix
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Sacred, Hymn Meter: 87. 87. D (iambic)
Language: English
Instruments: A cappella or keyboard
First published: 1874
2nd published: 1983 in Hymns Ancient and Modern, New Standard, no. 291
Description: For a descant, see Golden Sheaves (Andrew Sims).
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
1. To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise
In hymns of adoration,
To Thee bring sacrifice of praise,
With shouts of exultation.
Bright robes of gold the fields adorn,
The Hills with Joy are ringing,
The valleys stand so thick with corn
That even they are singing.
2. And now, on this our festal day,
Thy bounteous hand confessing,
Before Thee thankfully we lay
The first-fruits of Thy blessing.
By Thee the souls of men are fed
With gifts of grace supernal;
Thou who dost give us earthly bread,
Give us the Bread eternal.
3. We bear the burden of the day,
And often toil seems dreary;
But labour ends with sunset ray,
And rest comes to the weary.
May we, the angel-reaping o'er,
Stand at the last accepted,
Christ's golden sheaves, for evermore
To garners bright elected.
4. O blessèd is that land of God
Where saints abide for ever,
Where golden fields spread far and broad,
Where flows the crystal river.
The strains of all its holy throng
With ours today are blending;
Thrice blessèd is that harvest song